


Birds Fly the Nest

by Headfulloffantasies



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Batgirl - Freeform, Canon Typical Violence, Commissioner Gordon - Freeform, F/M, Mentions of Blood, Nightwing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Headfulloffantasies/pseuds/Headfulloffantasies
Summary: Commissioner Gordon faces Arkham patients giving unsolicited advice about his daughter's romantic affairs.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 93





	Birds Fly the Nest

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a 5+1 about Gotham rogues badgering Batgirl and Nightwing about their relationship a while ago. I liked it enough to write a part 2. Thanks to @HistoryIsculture for the prompt

1.  
Jim Gordon heard that the Batmobile had soundproofing. That once a villain sat secured in the backseat, Batman drove in brooding silence. Gordon’s police cruiser was not the Batmobile.

Harley Quinn warbled into her hundredth verse of “One Million Bottles of Beer on the Wall” as the car sped towards Arkham at increasing speed. Montoya had a lead foot at the best of times. With a crazy clown singing off key in the back? She became a NASCAR racer. 

Gordon twisted in his seat. “Can you please stop?” He ground out at Quinn.

The clown grinned manically. “You’re no fun. I’m entertaining myself.”

Gordon rubbed his aching temples. “If I tell you a story, will you be entertained enough to shut up?”

“Yippee!” Harley bounced and clanked her handcuffs together. “Story time!”

Gordon cast his mind for anything at all to chatter about. “So, my daughter,” he starts. “Brought a new boy home last weekend.”

Montoya met his eye in the mirror. Gordon grimaced. 

He continued. “This kid is perfect. Like a glossy magazine, you know? Firm handshake, scholarship awards, good job, good family. But something about him felt odd. You know when you meet someone and you know they aren’t being genuine? And I think I’ve met him somewhere before. So I look him up. He’s a circus freak. Used to perform trapeze with his parents until they got murdered.”

Montoya raised an eyebrow. Harley gripped the caging between her and Gordon, utterly rapt. 

Gordon swallowed and went on. “I like the kid, really. But what kind of guy can go through his parents’ murders and still be okay? Something has to be wrong with him, right? How can I let my girl keep seeing a guy like that?”

Harley hummed. “D’you want my professional opinion?”

Gordon faltered, forgetting that Harley had once been a renowned psychiatrist. 

“I think,” Harley said. “That Papa Bear is too protective of his little girl. You gotta let a gal have her space. My daddy didn’t let me date. Not one boy ever looked at me my whole life living under daddy’s roof ‘cause they knew what daddy’d do to them if they tried.” Harley sighed. “I ran away from home, did you know that? I wasn’t there when mama died. And I missed daddy’s passing too. You gotta keep those ties if you don’t want to regret them.”

Gordon suddenly viscerally remembered that Harley’s father had killed his wife and gotten the electric chair for it. He swallowed hard. “Right. Thank you, Doctor Quinzel.”

“Oh sugar, call me Harley,” the clown laughed. She rattled the caging. “Are we there yet? Nine hundred thousand ninety- nine bottles of beer on the wall-,”

Gordon groaned and buried his head in his hands.

2  
As the arresting officer, it fell to Gordon to interrogate Harvey Dent once he’d been cuffed to the table in police headquarters.

Gordon set a cup of horrid cop coffee in front of Dent and took his seat across from the gangster.

“Harley says your daughter’s stepping out with some circus freak,” Two Face sneered. 

Gordon slumped in his seat. What had possessed him to tell Harley Quinn, gossip extraordinaire, about Barbara and Richard? 

“I remember your little girl,” Dent said. “You still keep her photo on your desk?”

“Of course,” Gordon snapped. 

“You ever lie to her, Jim?” Dent asked in a low growl. “She ever lie to you?”

A shiver ran down Gordon’s spine. His mind flashed to purple bruises and shoddy excuses. “I don’t want to talk to you about Barbara, Harvey. Let’s talk about your attempted robbery.”

Dent grunted. He leaned his elbows on the table. “You gotta be two-faced about men seeing your girl,” Dent advised. “Smile when she’s in the room and give him the what for when she’s not around.”

“Thank you, Harvey,” Gordon said. “That’s very insightful.”

“If you don’t, he’ll get the idea no one’s watching,” Two Face went on. “Think he can get up to something, if you catch my drift.”

“Harvey,” Gordon forced his voice to remain even. “My daughter is a grown woman. I’m not sabotaging her relationships just because the guy is a freeloader.”

“Freeloader?” Two Face laughed. The sound rasped between the halves of his ruined face. “You let your girl go out with a tramp?”

“No,” Gordon corrected himself. “His family has money. He doesn’t work. He has a trust fund or something.”

“That’s worse,” Two Face hissed. “Nepotism. Elitists!”

Gordon abandoned Dent to his rant. He got up and walked out of the interview room. The door shut on Dent’s shouting.

3

Honestly, it was Gordon’s own fault. He leaned against the side of the police cruiser while he and Montoya waited for the arresting officer to bring Catwoman out of the museum. He complained to Montoya while they waited, not taking note of the approaching feline criminal with her escort.

“This is the third time we’ve scheduled dinner with Richard, and he bailed every time. Last time, he got called into work. Tonight it was a family emergency. What did I say the first time was?”

“Food poisoning,” Montoya responded automatically.

“Sounds like a jerk,” Catwoman purred. 

Gordon spun around. The arresting officer loaded the lady in her black catsuit into Gordon’s car. Gordon shot Montoya a panicked look. She returned a face that said “You started it.”

Gordon got into the passenger’s seat hoping against hope that Catwoman wouldn’t feel up to chatting after her disastrous encounter with Nightwing.

“Tell me more about Richard,” Catwoman suggested.

Gordon groaned. “I regret every word I’ve ever spoken with Harley Quinn.”

“So do I,” Catwoman grinned. “But tell me more anyways.”

“I’m not discussing my daughter’s life with criminals,” Gordon said resolutely into the windshield.

“You’ll tell Harley, but not me?” Catwoman pouted. “I’m hurt, kitten.” She leaned forward. “I’ll tell you this for free. Any man who can’t be bothered to meet his girlfriend’s parents is a cad. Break them off now.”

“I said,” Gordon repeated. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

Catwoman hissed. If she could, Gordon bet she’d dig her claws into his neck. Instead, they drove on in silence. 

4  
Gordon placed a hand on a cuffed Edward Nygma and guided him into the back of the police cruiser. 

Nygma flashed Gordon a grin over his shoulder. “Riddle me this, Commissioner. What has two sides and has everyone in Arkham talking?”

“What the hell, Ed?” Gordon rubbed his eyes. “I don’t even want to guess.”

“Spoilsport,” Nygma pouted. “I’ll tell you, but only because I am also curious about this scoop. Everyone wants to know about your sweet daughter’s trashy boyfriend.”

It’s like playing that stupid telephone game, Gordon thought. Nothing he said came out right on the other end. “He’s not trashy, Ed. He’s bougie.” Gordon preened at his correct use of the hip word Barbara had taught him. 

Ed scoffed. “A classist? You allow your daughter to date a class traitor?”

Gordon leaned his head against the car door. “I don’t want to get into it, Ed. I’ve had a long night.”

“So have I,” Ed shrugged. “Batman kicked my face in and I’m going back to prison. But your little story is much more interesting.”

5

Transporting Poison Ivy gave Gordon the creeps. She was a literal walking biological weapon. The faster he could get her to Arkham, where they knew how to deal with her, the better. Gordon flipped the sirens on and stamped on the gas. They tore through Gotham, just Gordon and Ivy in the police cruiser.

“So,” Ivy purred from the back seat. “I hear there’s another ginger causing you trouble tonight, Jim.”

Gordon’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. “I’m not talking about it with you.”

“I would never let my daughter date someone I didn’t like.”

“You don’t have a daughter,” Gordon reminded her.

“But if I did-,”

“Heaven forbid it.”

“James, that’s unkind,” Ivy pouted. 

“Shove it where the sun don’t shine,” Gordon ground between his teeth. 

6  
“Do you fear losing your daughter to another man?” The Scarecrow’s soft voice rose the hairs on the back of Gordon’s neck. Gordon gripped the steering wheel tighter. It was a long drive to Arkham. He’d rather nip this conversation in the bud.

“No,” Gordon bit out.

“Really?” Crane hummed. His handcuffs clinked together. “It would be normal for a man of your position and power to fear losing control of a loved one’s life. Especially one who has been dependent on you since her birth. You raised her. She’s your flesh. Yet she deigns to place her life in the hands of another man. Does that not scare you?”

Gordon ground his teeth. He didn’t answer.

“From what I hear,” crane continued. “Your daughter’s new man has more money than you’d ever make. More prestige.” He paused. “And more trauma. Does it not scare you to think what kind of monster lies under his skin?”

“He’s not a monster,” Gordon insisted. 

Crane chuckled. “We’re all monsters, Commissioner.”

Gordon swallowed hard.

“I’m shocked you let her date him.”

Gordon slammed on the brakes. Traffic screeched around the police cruiser. Gordon spun in his seat. He stuck his finger in Krane’s face. “Listen up. I want you to deliver a message down your Arkham grapevine. Word for word, got it? My daughter is her own woman. She makes her own choices. I am not her keeper, her warden, or her owner. And if even one of you could get it through your fat skulls that people are not puppets to control, then I would weep for joy.”

+1

Gordon got the call just as he was leaving the office. Victor Zsasz was terrorising Nightwing and Batgirl downtown. Gordon grabbed his coat and raced for his car.   
He arrived just as the ambulance pulled up. Gordon’s stomach dropped. Zsasz had a terrifying body count under his belt. If anyone needed the ambulance… Gordon shuddered. He unclipped his gun, ready to storm the building. 

The door flung open. A hogtied Victor Zsasz tumbled down the stairs into the street. The other officers on the scene swarmed him, shouting and making the arrest.   
Gordon looked up. Batgirl stood proudly at the top of the steps, her hands on her hips and chest puffed out. She noticed Gordon standing there watching. She waved him over. 

Gordon trudged up the steps. A dark smear of blood stained Batgirl’s purple sleeve. 

“Commissioner,” Batgirl saluted Gordon. 

“Good work,” Gordon said.

Batgirl swallowed hard. “I need your help. Quietly.”

Gordon agreed without thinking. “What can I do?”

Batgirl grabbed his arm and pulled him with her back into the building. She led him through a series of business offices into a janitor’s closet. Even in the dark, Gordon noticed the drops of dark liquid on the floor. 

Batgirl pushed aside a rack of cleaning supplies. 

Nightwing slumped against the wall, his legs spread over the floor. He clutched a wound in his side bleeding all over his uniform. He didn’t look up when Batgirl knelt at his side. 

Gordon cursed. “Is he-?”

“He’ll be okay,” Batgirl promised.

Gordon wasn’t so sure. The blue bird emblem on Nightwing’s chest hardly rose at all with his breathing. An overwhelming amount of blood pooled underneath him across the linoleum floor.

Gordon reached for his radio to call the EMTs in. Batgirl snagged his wrist.

“He can’t go to a hospital,” she said. 

“But-,”

Batgirl interrupted. “If I can get him home, he’ll be fine. I need your help getting him to the Batmobile. Please.”

Gordon nodded. He passed a shaking hand over his brow. “Yeah, alright.”

Gordon crouched and lifted one of Nightwing’s arms over his shoulder. Batgirl kept her hands pressed against the bloody hole in his abdomen. Gordon couldn’t stop his mind from swapping the young man with Barbara. What if it was her bleeding out on the floor? Would he so callously help a vigilante sneak her out the back door to receive questionable medical assistance?

Together they half carried Nightwing out to the alley behind the building. The legendary Batmobile sat purring on the asphalt. The chrome gleamed under the streetlights. The canopy of the Batmobile slid open when Batgirl pressed her hand to it. 

Gordon grunted as he helped lift Nightwing into the passenger seat. The kid roused enough to meet Gordon’s eye through his mask. 

“Hey, Mister Gordon,” he said. 

“It’s Commissioner to you,” Gordon grouched good naturedly. 

Batgirl hopped into the driver's seat. 

Gordon reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m proud of you,” he said.

She quirked a smile. “Thanks Dad.”

He wished fervently he could hug her right now. But Gotham had eyes everywhere. He settled for another squeeze of her caped shoulder. “Just take care of your boy. Tell him this isn’t an excuse to miss Sunday dinner.”

Barbara's laugh as she drove off was worth it.


End file.
